


For Want Of A Harness

by Barkour



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (2010)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Pregnant Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-02
Updated: 2012-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-09 00:26:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barkour/pseuds/Barkour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hiccup finds a very pregnant Astrid very irresistible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Want Of A Harness

**Author's Note:**

> Kinkmeme fill, for [this prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/httyd_kink_meme/388.html?thread=5252).

She began showing late in the fourth month: a slight pudge in her gut, a thickening in her hips. By the advent of the sixth month, the soft but certain widening of her belly proved unmistakeable. 

Those few in the village who had whispered of false pregnancies, of losses and stone babies, fell silent. They had never dared speak of such before Astrid, but Hiccup, accustomed to the murmured cruelties of others, had heard their voices. He had done what he could to smooth the grim, thin lines of Astrid's mouth and to rub out the knots low in her back.

At odd moments Astrid set her hand upon her gut and smiled down at her work-rough fingers spreading wide across that swell. She'd lost the first joint of her index finger in battle; the middle finger stretched out like a spider's leg beside it. She did so once as she stepped down from Bibi, the dark blue Nadder who walked light as a bird. 

This was his wife: straw-golden hair, square jaw and pale eyes, her strong hands lined with scars, her belly full with the child they had made. Her braids tumbled loose down her back; one slipped down along her jaw. Astrid flicked it away and cupping her belly, she stood free of the saddle.

"Well," she said. "Are you coming or not?"

His mouth was dry, his throat thin. "Yeah," he said. 

She turned away, leading Bibi up the trail. Astrid's hips swayed, a languorous roll at odds with her brisk step. The thickness of her thighs struck him then, a thought like lightning in his gut: the corded muscle, the layer of pregnancy fat, her skin smooth but for the childhood scar running down to her left knee. 

Toothless hummed, curious. He flicked his ear at Hiccup.

"No, it's nothing," said Hiccup. "Just thinking of. Uh. Dinner." He thumped his chest once to clear the heat out, then followed Astrid up.

*

"I need a new harness," she said.

Hiccup looked up from his work table. Plans for a self-propelled crib littered the table. He expected a breakthrough any day now. Any day.

"Huh?" he said. He frowned and crossed his eyes. He'd a nail in the corner of his mouth and no idea of how it got there.

Astrid dragged it from between his teeth. "A new harness. I'm getting too big for the one I'm using." She gestured to her swollen belly. "It pulls on my shoulders."

She dropped the nail into his palm. Hiccup rolled it between his fingers, then set it down.

"A harness," he said, thinking. Saddle repairs mostly done, and Looger wouldn't expect her new axe for another couple days. "I can get that done today, no problem. I'll need to get new measurements, though."

Astrid turned to check the door. "On or off?"

"What?" he said.

She looked at him over her shoulder. Long, stray strands of her pale hair swept across her brow. She plucked at her top. "On or off?" 

"On," he said. He cleared his throat. "You can leave it on. You won't be flying naked any time soon or-- Probably." 

Astrid smiled in that way she had, her face going soft and her eyes dropping. She'd smiled like that the other night as he pressed his cheek to her belly and listened for the baby, turning over within her. His heart bit at him.

"I'll keep it on," she said.

He took the measuring length and wrapped it tightly about her belly, marking it off on the nearest notch. She'd set her hands at the small of her back, and so her hips thrust a bit forward. Her sweater was thin; summer had come as hot as it ever came to Berk. A blue sweater striped with dark green, clinging to her breasts, fatter but each still fitted to his palm, and to her round belly warm and near. Her thick thighs in their trousers peeked out beneath the sweater's hem.

Hiccup unwound the tape and rose to measure her shoulders, her bust. Astrid stood still for him, for long and quiet moments. He skimmed his fingers across her breasts, holding the tape even. She breathed lightly.

"All right," he said. 

He fumbled with the tape, chin down so all he could see were his hands and the tape between them and her knees, shifting as she stepped closer. He looked up. She stood taller than him; she would always stand taller than him.

She tucked a braid behind her ear. Her teeth flashed over her lower lip. "I closed the door, remember," she said, then she kissed him.

He dropped the tape.

Astrid wound her arms about him, holding him close as her belly would allow. Hiccup ran his fingers up her thigh and slithered closer. She pushed against him. So soft, but hard, too: muscle flexing in her thighs, her shoulders; the roundness of her belly taut. He set his hand between them, cupping her belly.

She licked at his teeth. "Hiccup," she said.

"Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?" he said.

Astrid bit his lip, dragging it between her teeth, sucking at it till he felt swollen with blood and heat. She wriggled her hips.

"I mean, not that I don't want you under other, less pregnant circumstances," he added. "I'm pretty much your biggest fan. No reflection on your current, uh, roundness intended."

"Hiccup," she said, "shut up."

"Yes," he said. "Good idea. Doing that right now. This is me, shutting up."

"You're not shutting up," she said, so she shut him up. Astrid fisted her hand in his hair. Her mouth opened above his, warm and hot and so wet. He clung to her and turned his head just so, and when she slipped down he moved with her, balancing her as she laid down beside him.

Gods above, but the thickness of her, the hardness of her belly where their child grew and turned and kicked, their child made by them like this--

She dragged the sweater off over her head, catching her braids in the neck of it. He smoothed his hands up her bared belly, the swell, the flick of her belly button peeking out. She shook her head and those long, blonde braids fell in a cascade about her throat, against her clavicle and her shivering breasts. He thumbed a nipple, fat and red. He thought of licking it, but she caught him by the collar.

"Aren't you a little overdressed?" she said.

"I could stand to lose a few layers," he allowed.

She tugged on his shirt, pulling it tight across his chest. His heartbeat quickened.

"So lose them."

He lost them: vest, tunic, his belt, trousers kicked down to his ankles. Astrid worried her trousers down to her calves then coiled against him. The scar wrapped about her knee showed white on her skin.

She tucked her knee between his legs, sliding her knee up his thigh. His thigh pressed into the thick and curling thatch of hair between her legs. The curls were damp, thick with it; wet, she was always so wet now, wet and hot, and hard and soft, against him. 

Astrid bit his jaw. Her fingers palmed his cock, the blunt end of her scarred finger rough on his skin. He huffed out an inelegant breath. Always wet, but he felt his own desire a constant presence, a thrumming longing that sparked at the sight of her bending back, her fat belly, the width of her thighs as she stretched.

She kissed him delicately, light where she'd nipped him. Her lips burned him. "Come on, dragon-rider," she said, nuzzling his jaw. She stretched her legs for him then, her thighs parting. 

One deep breath, then dive: he positioned and rolled forward, pressing into her. Astrid sighed. She wriggled against him, her belly tight between them. He tucked his arm about her shoulders and kissed her neck, high then low, and ran his other hand down to rest between her legs.

"I want you, too," she whispered in his ear. Her breath washed over him. "I want to, to push you--" She stuttered and fell quiet, her face red, as red as his tucked against her shoulder. 

He knew well enough. She'd done it before: before the pregnancy, before she showed, when she could push him down and grind in his lap and drag him up flush against her. He thought of that, of Astrid bright above him, and then she moaned beside him, her legs tight about him, her belly thick. 

Hiccup pinched her clit and pushed deeper into her, and he said, "Astrid. Astrid--" thinking of her, young and lithe, and scarred and clean, and pregnant and not, above him, beside him. She shuddered against him, wet beneath his fingers, wet around him. Her breasts trembled, her thighs, her belly.

"Astrid," he said, and he came.

He stroked her still, shallow thrusts as he softened, and rubbed his fingers over that taut nub until she groaned and shook again, as if struck in her bones. She tightened about him, siezing. Her nails bit into his scalp. Then she sighed and was still.

After a moment, Astrid turned and set her head on his shoulder. Hiccup shifted, easing her way.

"I don't really need the harness today," she said.

"Well, we here at Berk's Number One Smithy pride ourselves on our prompt service," said Hiccup.

Astrid snorted, then she hid her face in his neck and laughed, shaking against him. 

Hiccup slung his arm about her, drew her closer still, and said, "Please, remember to thank your blacksmith for all his hard work." Then she socked him in the arm and he, too, laughed.


End file.
